


The Posey Rule

by crimsonkitty



Category: Black Sails
Genre: (a very very small mention), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, F/M, Hats, Hurt/Comfort, I wrote this for school, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, baseball references, messed up kids trying to survive by loving each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 11:24:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12747351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonkitty/pseuds/crimsonkitty
Summary: “You fucking dipshit,” she mutters over and over again, ripping off her jacket and placing it under his head. “You motherfucking dipshit motherfucker.”





	The Posey Rule

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this in about three seconds for homework after struggling all day with nanowrimo. Fuckin figures. Anyways, the title is a reference to a rule in baseball protecting the catcher from runners who might try to dislodge the ball from their glove, hurting the catcher as a result. Shout out to my creative writing class, my online writing group, and the various others I made read this before I posted it. Un-beta'd, so all mistakes are my own. (Edited: 8/23/18)

When he lifts his head, she barely recognizes him through the bruises. 

“Jack,” she whispers, her voice stuck in her throat. “What did you go and do that for?” 

He doesn't seem to hear her, not really. His head lolls to the side as he sprawls out on his stomach, one blackened eye staring up at her like she's some kind of dream figure. 

“Hey, Annie,” he says. Croaks like a frog that's been run over. And then run over again by the car behind it. “Fancy seeing you here.” 

His single eye closes and he hisses softly, his back raising in hitches of air. “As good as I can see you right now, anyway.” 

“Shut the fuck up, you idiot,” she snaps. Stupid fucking idiot who can't keep his nose out of other people's business. What a wonderful fucking moron. 

She's reaching for her phone, half ready to call an ambulance, half ready to call the parents neither of them has anymore, when he puts one trembling hand on her's, stopping it in the air. 

“No, don't,” he gasps. “It'll be fine. I'll be fine.” 

She wonders if his ribs are broken, talking like that, or if he got the air knocked out of him one too many times. 

“It's not fucking fine,” she snarls. “You are not fucking fine.” 

At fifteen, Annie has seen more than most of the adults three times her age who look down on her for still being a kid. She doesn't wear it proudly. It doesn't make her feel more grown up or anything. It just is what it is. She has a phone for emergencies and a place to sleep that isn't crawling with rats or rabid foster parents. And she has Jack, beaten and bloody as he is, and for a long time now that's all that she's needed. 

Jack, seventeen and still growing into his not yet considerable height, gives her hand a firm shake, like they've made a business deal or some bullshit. Like he's not getting blood on the sleeve of her jacket. 

Very carefully, she attempts to roll him onto his back, hoping it will be easier on his lungs and rib cage. He lets out a whine of pain that eats at her in ways she can't examine right now as she twists his legs out from under him. His jeans and shirt are ruined. Torn and ground in with dirt. 

“You fucking dipshit,” she mutters over and over again, ripping off her jacket and placing it under his head. “You motherfucking dipshit motherfucker.” 

“Sorry, Annie.” He sounds less pressed for air, breathing hard but not like something's wrong outside of the obvious. 

“No, you ain't.” And she hates him for it a little. A stupid fight over a stupid fucking hat. “Don't apologize when you're not sorry.” 

“Sor-”

She almost hits him again. Would have if she weren't seriously worried about doing more damage. “Don't, I said.” 

He smiles, punch drunk. Literally. Blood is still leaking out of his nose and down his chin and she swears, moving his head and her jacket on top of her knees. 

“Stop fucking bleeding and smiling like that or I'm calling an ambulance anyways,” she says, running a frantic hand through his hair, behind his ears, checking checking just to be sure. 

He closes his eyes, a damn cat enjoying his head scratches. “Anything for you, Annie.” 

And that's when she knows she can't watch him like this, can't watch him hurt because of her. She's the fighter of the two of them. Everyone knows it. Expects it. Knows that she'll take down a man twice her size for looking wrong at either her or Jack. 

She closes her eyes. Breathes deep, looks for Jack's smell under the blood. Pulls her ragged Orioles cap down low over her forehead. Tries to keep the tears in where they won't fall. 

Something smacks at the brim of her cap and she starts, jerking up and looking for a new threat. All she gets is the sight of Jack grinning up at her like a madman. 

“I did get a couple though, didn't I.” 

She snorts. “Think the second guy might have a bruise tomorrow.” 

“See, there you go. Your honor is defended.” 

Her hand tightens in his hair and her stomach rolls, a flood of fear rising in her. “It's just a stupid hat, Jack. It's not important.” 

He reaches up, tugs at a strand of her bright red hair hanging down over him. “Of course it is. How else would I find you? The only Orioles fan living in the Midwest?” 

It forces a laugh out of her. Covers for the tears staining her collar. “I don't even like baseball.” 

“What are you talking about, of course you do.” The look he gives her is aghast. “Everyone likes baseball,” he informs her with an air of certainty and imploring, completely ruined by the swelling of his face. “I don't know a single thing about baseball except that I sucked at it when we had to play in PE last year, and even I love baseball.” 

Ranting seems to settle him, lets him relax more fully against her bare legs. There are spots of blood soaked into her jacket now. Starting to drop onto her cut off shorts. She doesn't give a flying fuck. They're good at getting bloodstains out at this point. 

“Don't do it again,” she says quietly. “I'd rather you be a fucking coward than... than like this.” 

Jack is silent. It happens rarely enough that she is immediately on alert, leaning forward to make sure his eyes are open, pushing a hand to his neck to check for his pulse. 

“I said I was fine,” he sighs. Exasperated, he rolls his head back and forth, further ruining his meticulously spiked hair, looking for some kind of answer. She's still waiting for her own. 

“You know I'd do anything for you, Annie,” he eventually says. He says them slowly, one at a time, each word with a weight attached, pulling them down into the sea.

She shakes her head furiously. “But it doesn't have to be this!” Anything but this, please, any god that's listening. 

“Wait,” he interrupts her. “Wait. Just... just hold on a second, let me finish.” He breathes deep. Winces. “I'd do anything for you. But sometimes I want to feel like I'm protecting you too. That I can, when you need me to.” 

It's the biggest piece of bullshit she's ever heard. The first time they'd met, fifteen year old Jack Rackham had punched a grown man in the throat for grabbing her thirteen year old arm without her permission. He'd pulled her out of a hell hole she hadn't known how to get out of, hadn't known she'd been in. 

It's her that owes the debt. And it's her that wants to pay it back for the rest of her life. 

“You always have, Jack,” is all she says. And, without thinking about it, she bends down and presses the smallest and quickest of kisses to his forehead, looking for skin underneath the bruises and the blood. When she pulls away, his eyes are wide, watching her with shock. She refuses to blush, refuses to do anything but look forward with stony eyes. She can't quite bring herself to regret it. 

“Well.” He coughs. It's an embarrassed cough, instead of a strained one, and the fear inside her begins to wash away in waves. “I did get your hat back, didn't I.” 

He sounds pleased and she lets him. Pulls her hat more tightly down on her head. 

“Yeah,” she says. “You did. Thanks, Jack.” 

She feels him breathing against her knees. Deep and calm and impossible. 

“You're welcome.”

**Author's Note:**

> come hang out with me over on tumblr at [kaqueershi](http://kaqueershi.tumblr.com).


End file.
